10. Ollie

Fuck,this is harder than anything else I've ever done. How the hell do they expect me to be able to do these exercises when I'm not functioning at one-hundred-percent, for Christ's sake? I've not moved upright much for close to three or so weeks, outside of PT. My body can't be expected to cooperate on the first couple of attempts. And it doesn't help that I have Attila the Hun as my therapist today. Damn, she's worse than any BUD/S instructor I can remember.

"Ollie, hey come on, we have a couple more exercises to do then you're done for the day. Push it SEAL. Again, please."

I bite my tongue because I want to tell her to shove it, but I know that I can't. I'm on some kind of special privilege right now, here and back home, it's a form of probation because of punching that asshole therapist who wouldn't listen when I told him I was in pain. Had the nerve to tell me I didn't know what pain was. So, I made sure the bastard, without a doubt, fucking did feel some pain. That didn't go over well, and if not for Onyx I would have probably been thrown out of that hospital PT for sure. Now, thank God, the facility I'm at is part of the FQS, used mainly for military personnel returning home injured who need all kinds of therapy. I've been going to physical therapy, occupational therapy, individual counseling, and group counseling, and I don't know what the other two are called. And each therapist has something to give to me that will help with "my situation,"whatever the hell that means.

Finishing the last set for A-Hun, I laugh at the call name I'm using in my head, she gives me her closing speech and then releases me. Thank the good Lord, I didn't think I could handle any more time with her today. Total ballbuster.

I go into the locker room to clean up and grab my bag. Hoping today whoever is driving me can drop me at Paisley's house. Can't wait to see how the kittens are doing and momma cat seems to be hanging on, giving it her all. Paisley told me at the beginning of the week that all signs point to momma pulling through, which totally made my day.

My therapist believes that I'm diving deep into a defense mechanism to compensate for how my last mission went down. She was really firm that the two she is associating with me are displacement and compartmentalization. She sees both in my reaction to the cat family I found, so that's why I'm feeling sort of a responsibility for what happens to them. There's nothing threatening about the cats so that allows me to have strong emotions, which is spot-on. The second one I'm not sure of, but again she said that compartmentalization fits what I've been doing since I found the animals. All I've tried to talk about in our sessions is the next steps with them. Nothing else, and she has had to practically drag information out and then give me a theory on how each thing affects me emotionally. So, I bring the family of cats up as soon as the session begins and keep on that subject, shutting down anything personal or related to Bahrain or the men and women who were with me on that day who were injured, or worse, lost.

Everything I'm being told seems to make real sense because since finding the cat family my nightmares are coming back, actually worse than before, but they're different too. Some are about Bahrain, and some are about me actually seeing the accident with momma cat, but she doesn't live, and then in my dreams I see wildlife going after the kittens. I wake up in a cold sweat and shaking. It's totally fucked when both Bahrain and the cats get twisted together, and I'm watching human and feline bodies being blown up and shot right in front of me. Of course, on those nights it totally sucks trying to go back to sleep, which is messing with my schedule the following day. And my lack of sleep has made all my therapies that much harder. I would never tell A-Hun this but kind of mentioned it to my psychiatrist, who was pretty cool and explained why everything is starting to mix together. She said the brain is a very complex organ and it does that sometimes because it can't handle one incident on its own. I'm truly thankful she's who I talk to because I'm sure others here would think I'm either crazy or borderline schizoid, I'm sure. And sometimes I think they aren't too far off.

I'm handed a hardbound journal in which I'm expected to write down my emotions and any kind of emotional breaks I experience. How I feel and what I am doing to manage it. Also need to share how I deal with any situation that doesn't make me feel good and normal. I know this is helping me deal with stuff, but right now I'm like, whatever, because now that this session is finally over, we are gonna head over to see the kitties. Well, me and whoever is driving. The guys have been great taking me to and from wherever I need to go. I do feel bad when one of them drives me out to Paisley's farm, but I can't seem to stay away. Not to mention my feline family has been moved there so that's where I have to go to see them.

Wheeling myself to the reception area, I'm excited because very soon I can kiss this pain in the ass wheelchair goodbye. Some of my most current exercises have been getting me up on my feet and walking, even though when up, I need to be in the special brace from hell. My leg is very weak, and I've been warned. Not to mention if I'm standing up, I must have a walker right in front of me, which is a drag, but I'll take it. Without them knowing, of course, I've tried standing at the beach house a couple of times and taking a couple of steps on my own. No pain no gain, as we used to say almost every day during our morning exercise sessions. Most of my attempts to stand and move were okay, except the one time I got tangled up in the wheelchair. That motherfucker hurt, thank God I was able to keep myself standing and not fall on my hip. Probably would have messed up the last couple of months of therapy.

Rolling out of the elevator, I'm surprised as hell to see both Sam and Bridget waiting on me. Something must be up because I haven't set eyes on Sam since I first came here. Per my sister Onyx, she finally let it out that she's been following up and talking to Sam since I arrived. At first, that kind of pissed me off, but I took a minute to think and it hit me: I should be happy my sister cares so much to stay up-to-date on my progress and keep herself in my life right now. The support means a lot. But looking at these two women, I hate this guessing game of why they're my drivers but both of them are keeping it tightlipped, so I play along. And let's face it, gotta suck it up…. I need a damn ride out to the shelter. More importantly to Paisley.

The conversationin the car is fun, engaging, and screwed up. These two are something else. Gorgeous, each in their own way, but for some reason I get no physical reaction to either of them. Yeah, they're both married—not going there—but there's nothing, not even the usual body reaction when a hot chick is present. Actually, maybe there's something wrong with me because since I returned Stateside, I haven't really had any of those ‘feelings' down there when in the company of any woman. Yeah, I wake up with wood, ain't dead, and what guy my age doesn't, but besides me taking care of that I haven't given a thought to all the females I've been around. Well, whenever I've tried to see the girl of my dreams in my mind's eye, it's not someone who looks like either of these two beautiful women but a woman who is—yes—pretty, but more than that. I remember our momma always saying beauty is skin deep, which I take as if someone has a good heart it shows on the outside. With that in mind, only one woman I've met lately comes to mind. Paisley, one-hundred-percent. Something about her has me going apeshit crazy. She seems so delicate and tiny but also very powerful. And dedicated to what she's doing. Got to say my thoughts are going down that road because the last few days I've had some very vivid dreams about Miss Paisley. With my thoughts concentrating on Doc, I miss what Sam says until she repeats it much louder at me.

"Hey, Ollie, I know we are dropping you off at Paisley's but what if we lend a hand at her farm too? Neither of us has anything going on until later so we can drop you off, or do you have other plans and don't want to go out there?"

Knowing I have nothing to do today, that sounds great. I cleaned the beach house yesterday and did some laundry. I got a ride the other day to pick up some groceries, so I'm set. Then I hear both women giggling, so I realize they set me up. Well, I can play along too.

"Hey, that sounds great. Got nothing else on the books for today. If you guys want to stick around and see the kittens, that's cool too. Momma is still a bit on the shy side but not the four furballs. Everyone is pressing me to give them all names, but I haven't come up with anything yet. Well, haven't given it much thought really. Bridget, they are growing like weeds, you won't believe how they're changing. Probably being fed regularly is helping too."

Bridget turns around and smiles at me.

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone how much you really are into all those cats, Ollie. Try and remember who we're married to. Both Nessa and Mack try to act like badasses all the time but put a baby, little kid, or any baby animal in front of them—and before you know it—they are either holding the babies or the kids are using them as a jungle gym. You SEALs are so softhearted under your hard exterior walls. Don't hide it, Ollie, that's one of the best qualities you have, even if you don't realize the effect it has on us women."

They both chuckle and once again the conversation is laid-back and friendly as we head to Paisley's farm. I can't tell if the excitement I'm feeling is for the cats or because I'm about to see the cute little doc who's been making an appearance in my dreams.